


a little less love confessions, a little more coping please!

by riceflourbeanpaste



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: M/M, extremely background sorato that only exists for bullying yamato purposes, in which the writer suffers room-full-of-people dialogue hell thanks 02 youre a real one, very very inspired by y2k era shoujo romance shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riceflourbeanpaste/pseuds/riceflourbeanpaste
Summary: Are you getting chocolates for anyone yourself, by any chance?Koushiro involuntarily sprays the mouthful of tea he’s drinking.-In which Koushiro fails at giving Valentine’s chocolate, Taichi fails to receive a covert confession, and everyone else fails at deductive reasoning.
Relationships: Izumi Koushirou | Izzy Izumi/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	a little less love confessions, a little more coping please!

**Author's Note:**

> tri didn't have actually fun teenage dumb shenanigans for the kids so I wrote this for myself. 
> 
> This fic is *very* long and tropey and dumb and I hope y'all get some enjoyment out of reading the kids get thrown into a tizzy by valentine's day anime conflict. Wish i'd finished it in time but I hope its early enough to still be in the spirit of things.
> 
> taishiro is real btw

Tentomon is roused from sleep by some sort of metallic scraping.

It takes a while for it to fully wake him up, innate survival instinct warring against being used to dead-in-the-night stimulus from the most voluntarily sleepless child in existence. The scraping is muted and uneven, far off from the bedroom, but still impossible to ignore now that he's aware of it.

Even in the bleariness of half-sleep, Tentomon feels something off from the usual. Scraping noise aside, the soft clacking of laptop keys are absent tonight. He cracks an eye open, scanning the bedroom for any signs of the usual- an expected harsh light from a screen of some sort- none. Despite how little he was liable to do so, Koushiro had to be asleep, then.

 _Koushiro-han_ , he thinks drowsily. _Koushiro-han is still asleep, and he has school tomorrow._

A faint light sneaks through the bedroom door, having been left slightly ajar. Koushiro's mother had to be awake, then. It didn’t happen very often, but every now and then he knew that Koushiro’s mother would have bouts of insomnia, and would often resort to baking to at least put that sleeplessness to use.

Deciding that sleep was harder to settle back into at this point, Tentomon gets up. He opens and closes the door quietly, claw almost missing the doorknob in his half-awake state, and continues his slow gait into the kitchen area. Sure enough, the faint stirrings of metal utensils ring clearer, Tentomon hoping their user would be alright with company.

"I’m sure both Koushiro-han and I would prefer if you were sleeping instead, Kae-han, but good morning.” Tentomon buzzes sleepily in greeting as he props himself up onto a chair; getting himself to eye-level contact as much as he could was always more comfortable for Koushiro's mother. “Is there anything you'd like some help wi- _eh_." 

Illuminated under the kitchen lamp's spotlight amidst the darkness is not Koushiro's mother. Before Tentomon is his own human soulmate, coated in an alarming amount of cocoa powder, holding a whisk and bowl. Familiar eye bags hold up a panicked stare, like a frightened inmate caught in the midst of a prison break.

"Um," Koushiro says.

 _Ah_ , Tentomon thinks, the strange scene in front of him suddenly making sense. This is what Gabumon meant by ' _February 14th unexpectancies'._

* * *

Koushiro Izumi has experienced something resembling romantic affection about three times in his life.

The first was for his fifth-year elementary school science teacher. She had seemed smarter than the average one and was definitely far more amicable, often talking to her students like their inquisitiveness was appreciated rather than an obstacle to tutoring the given syllabus. She allowed Koushiro to feel like his input was valued in class outside of simply answering questions correctly, and Koushiro found enough courage to ask her the occasional left-field question or two. She’d always chuckle gently at the strangely specific nature of them but also always indulge his questions with a proper answer, and would even give him a few of her own to think about.

Koushiro was just as fond of her as the rest of the class had been, and he’d even drafted up a letter about the kinds of questions he would’ve liked to ask her if he’d been a little more brave. Questions regarding what it felt like to be an adult, how she'd been like at their age, and what did she see that was worth talking to in kids like them even if she knew so much more than they did. That incident had become something of a mess when his friends had caught wind of it, a certain wild haired soccer captain especially blowing things out of proportion as he did, but Koushiro still managed to hold on to it after the whole commotion had died down, thankfully.

He didn’t get to give it to her, and she was unexpectedly reassigned to another school after a couple months. He was disappointed, but he understood that adults weren’t like his classmates, and they wouldn’t be tied down to his life. Time went by, and it passed. He never thought much of it.

The second time was in his second year of middle school. Koushiro had always been somewhat of a later bloomer, which meant that it took him a while to notice his peers. Specifically, that he could even be drawn to them by anything that wasn’t intellectual interest or a strongly forged friendship from life-threateningly harrowing circumstances.

The thing was, Yamato was objectively attractive. His parents had been plenty easy on the eyes individually and as a couple, and this was nowhere nearly as clearly demonstrated as with the existence of Yamato himself. His father had a broad masculinity that Yamato held in his shoulders, his mother's sharper features giving him an angular handsomeness uncommon among a teen population still struggling with baby fat (Koushiro included among them). With those paired with the striking look of his eyes and his later-gained cool confidence, the soulful heartthrob image that he'd unwittingly cultivate for himself later really seemed inevitable.

But Yamato was also more than that. He was a good friend when he was out of his own head, a fierce protector and a loyal comrade. He was thoughtful and a good listener, someone who’d let you spill your worries without judgement and made sure you were okay. An embarrassing mother hen at times, immediately there with a stern word of gentle admonishment in times when appropriate or hovering awkwardly in his unintentionally conspicuous manner when he was concerned but didn't know how to show it. Not so many people were so transparent about their care the way he was. It was nice.

He wasn’t even a bad musician. Koushiro would never join Daisuke’s sister in the stands to cheer at every performance, but his songs were pleasant enough and Koushiro would find himself latching onto one or two tunes to hum idly to himself. Decently bop-worthy, he supposed, although he couldn't really judge. His repertoire of actively cultivated music was hardly sizable.

So it only made sense that when Koushiro's hormones chose to make themselves known by hyper-fixating on the closest attainable attractive person, they chose Yamato. Specifically, someone close enough to Koushiro that he could be constantly incapacitated by his presence and proximity in entirely inappropriate settings and have hours of head space taken up by how much he knew about him, but _just_ distant enough that Koushiro could get assaulted by constant twinges of _wanting to know him a little better_ or repetitively distracting thoughts like _Did his hair look like that yesterday? I didn't know he could play guitar like that_. I _wonder what he’s doing right now?_

Needless to say, it had been a horrible couple months where Koushiro stammered and stuttered his way through Chosen meetings whenever he knew Yamato was looking; conspicuously dropped by whenever Miyako used the clubroom computers to work on songs for Yamato's band, or was constantly having to clear his browser history in the vague paranoia that _someone_ might snoop around in their horrifyingly oblivious manner, asking w _hy's your autofill so attached to Yamato's band, Koushiro?_

Koushiro was so relieved when it passed, even cracking an uncharacteristic joke at Yamato’s expense during the following group outing simply because he could. Everyone had looked at him surprised, but had also laughed readily as Yamato turned away from them, embarrassed and grouchy. No one was any the wiser, and that was a good thing. Months after it was over, Sora and Yamato were dating, and that was that.

And then there was the third time.

Or rather, the third time Koushiro had realised his feelings for the person in question were romantic to begin with.

It had started so simple, an innocent admiration for the boy who had noticed him and grounded him in his self-imposed isolation. What was harder to believe was the fact that they'd actually developed a friendship, a real one rooted in a mutual, shared trust. It was still shocking to Koushiro sometimes that they truly liked each other and each other's company, and the fondness that had fostered for the other boy only deepened with the more he learned about him.

The very same boy that came to occupy his thoughts always presented himself to Koushiro in the same way: unkempt, flyaway brown hair and a smile. Tawny, toned limbs that slung a friendly hand over his shoulder or were outstretched towards him, to guide or touch. Honey brown eyes bright and welcoming that promised him, _we'll do amazing things together._ Koushiro felt so strongly the need to _know_ and to _be known_ , the need to give and receive with mutual affection, the need to be valued, the need to be irreplaceable- Their demands burned at his core like a star, overwhelming and hollowing his chest out all at once.

Koushiro had fallen in love with his best friend.

Koushiro had fallen in love with a boy he hadn’t even considered developing romantic feelings for in the first place. A boy he was too afraid to feel so strongly for, their friendship too important and too precious for him to complicate with something as terrifyingly selfish and demanding as the feelings he could not terminate. It was both nerve wrecking and entirely improper, as Koushiro genuinely thought he deserved so much better than to be shackled solely to the attentions of an unremarkable boy like himself.

Koushiro knew from experience that he didn’t have to do anything about them. Didn’t have to confront them. All he needed to do was wait for it to pass, like before. The moment would go, his momentary passions would stabilize and his attentions would return to what he also did best: knowledge for his own sake. For others' sake. Anything else that wasn’t so self-flagellating.

This particular instance however, much to Koushiro’s dismay, had yet to pass.

* * *

Even if his feelings were inconvenient at best and tear-your-hair-out stressful at worst, Koushiro had never planned to do anything about them.

Until February 13th of his first year of high school.

* * *

Koushiro hadn't thought much about it at the time, but his first mistake had been entertaining a conversation with one of Mimi's American friends to begin with. Michael had been a familiar name among the younger chosen (Miyako singing his praises the first time they met), and even with Koushiro's lack of celebrity culture couldn't help being curious about whether his father's international fame had any impact on how he dealt with having a digimon partner.

Turns out, all it meant was that Michael's partner lived really, _really_ lavishly, and the conversation soon turned to their mutual friend who'd just settled back into her home country for the time being.

**_IzumiK_ ** _: she’s keeping herself busy. she speaks fondly of the US with all it's hustle and bustle I suppose, but I think she’s been missing a lot of things here._

**_IzumiK:_ ** _she’s been trying to meet up with old friends and do some catching up as well._

**_MJMan_ ** _: good!_

**_MJMan_ ** _: i’ve messaged her about five times today to know how she’s doing but she hasn’t been answering. weird for her, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask :/_

**_IzumiK_ ** _: Ah. that might be because its Valentine’s day tomorrow_

**_IzumiK_ ** _: Mimi-san has been particularly enthusiastic about holding a chocolate party of sorts. I think she’s preparing for it with the girls right now._

He doesn’t mention the fact that she’d practically begged Sora and Hikari to help, bright teary eyes holding them hostage as she held their hands and babbled sentimentally about being able to do girly things with her dearest friends again. Yamato had offered to come along, as did Daisuke and some of the other digimon (all excited at the prospect of watching free dessert get made), but Mimi had absolutely insisted on this being a girls-only event just this once. There was no need to convince Miyako, who was right there next to her in teary camaraderie as she offered every single culinary ingredient available to her at her parent’s store. 

**_MJMan_ ** _: Makes sense. She does love her party gatherings! :)_

Minutes pass and no second reply comes, marking a sufficient cap to the current conversational topic. Koushiro reaches for the oolong tea bottle and brings it to his lips. A blip notifying him on a new message goes off, and Koushiro eyes it without much thought. 

**_MJMan_ ** _: Are you getting chocolates for anyone yourself, by any chance?_

Koushiro involuntarily sprays the mouthful of tea he’s drinking.

Anyone interacting with Koushiro regularly knows that he is mostly what he looks like at first glance. Reserved, somewhat single-minded, not particularly enthusiastic or good about people. Point being, Koushiro is someone who exudes a certain disengagement from typical social affairs, especially those that relate to romance.

Basically, definitely not a question anyone would ask without an obliviously good-natured nosiness paired with blatant disregard for Koushiro’s implicit no-personal-questions barrier. Definitely traits a friend of Mimi’s would possess. Koushiro's cheeks can't help but flare up at the innocent inquiry, and he rebukes himself immediately. _No,_ he tells himself. Michael was halfway around the world with barely any knowledge of the nuances of Koushiro’s personal life. He had just asked because he was curious. It doesn't mean anything. He doesn't know anything. Not that there’s _anything_ to know to begin with!

However, the strangeness of the question in that it’s directed at him at all takes Koushiro a little off center, and it occurs to him that despite his base understanding on the concept of cultural differences and possessing a larger network of acquaintances from all around the globe than most, he had never asked any of them if Valentine’s day was any different for them as it was for him in Japan.

His so-called curiosity has for once, failed him in this crucial moment.

**_IzumiK_ ** _: But that would be strange, wouldn’t it? Isn't it only girls who give chocolates on Valentine’s day?_

**_MJMan_ ** _: right. Mimi did mention that...and that she didn't like it_

**_MJMan_ ** _: 'Why should girls or guys or whoever else giving gifts be a separate occasion? Shouldn’t we all be able to enjoy giving chocolates to each other together!’_

**_MJMan_ ** _: or something like that._

**_MJMan_ ** _: Also that white day gifts suck._

It was a very Mimi thing to say. She does have a point though, and Koushiro mentally notes to put in a little more thought into his White Day gifts.

**_MJMan_ ** _: you also totally dodged my question_

**_MJMan_ ** _: which totally rules out a hard no, you know?_

His face burns at the allegation. He hadn’t wanted to give Michael that impression, but he was also aware that he was terrible at lying. The most he could do was vague-speak his way out of whatever it was Michael was trying to pull out of this conversation, and hopefully he’d get the hint that Koushiro wasn’t someone looking for advice on such matters.

**_IzumiK_ ** _: I don't really think it is my place to discuss freely about such things._

**_IzumiK_ ** _: isn’t it rude to just assume someone would accept an admission of affection from just anyone if there’s no reason for them to?_

He'd only written something so pessimistically detached to discourage further prying, but his own private yearning slinks back a little at the sight of the sent message, hurt crawling in its place. He tries not to entertain it. 

Michael doesn’t reply for a minute or two and despite Koushiro’s small hopes that he might’ve gotten the message and dropped the topic, comes back with a cryptic, unhelpful message when he does. 

**_MJMan_ ** _: you know Koushiro-san, I suddenly understand Mimi’s rants about you a lot better now_

**_MJMan_ ** _: On a totally unrelated note, there’s nothing wrong with just letting yourself feel the way you feel, you know?_

**_MJMan_ ** _: Anyway, times are changing, Koushiro-san! I suppose I’m saying this as a cultural outsider, but if you wanna tell someone how you feel, you shouldn’t wait for them to make the first move. Or be stopped by some arbitrary expectations of gender roles_

**_MJMan_ ** _: Mimi would tell you the same thing I’m sure ;)_

**_MJMan_ ** _: If they’re worth it and care for you, I’m sure it wouldn’t bother them at all!_

This is already a ludicrous turn of events, Koushiro being psuedo-lectured on romance and acceptable performative romantic gestures by an acquaintance-slash-comrade that he’s never met in person more than once. He’s getting a headache.

But all the same, there's something in Michael's easy sincerity that lures Koushiro in. Something that spoke possibility to Koushiro, compelling him to read the last sentence twice, slowly, comprehending it. It ‘ _wouldn’t bother them at all.’_

It wouldn’t bother them at all?

So, if, in a manner of speaking. He had a potential anyone in mind. Any potential unconscious intent he had towards them was not a cause to seek asylum? He could just simply... admire this person in the impenetrable safety of his own head space?

And, furthermore, if that _potential_ anyone deserved his affection, he could give this _potential anyone_ something, if he wanted to? It wouldn’t be weird or strange? It might even be a welcome change, for him to express his affections towards them freely if they thought well of him? They could potentially, even maybe accept- 

“ _Heeeeeeeey, Koushirooooooo!_ ”

The loud, muffled voice outside the apartment snaps Koushiro out of his head and his _skin_ as the familiarity of its tone and inflection registers. Bad timing. _Bad timing._

“ _Koushiro, are you there?_ ”

He hastily types Michael a _brb_ and runs towards his front door, hoping to save his mother the trouble.

“ _Taichi-san!_ ” he opens the door a little breathlessly, staring wide-eyed at the boy with the unruly hair on the other side. “Why are you here?”

Said boy greets him with an apologetic smile, the afternoon sun catching the edges of his silhouette in a certain way that Koushiro can't help but look twice at as he strides past Koushiro into the doorway. "It’s nothing big! Just forgot my stuff last I was here. I know you might’ve been caught up in whatever computer stuff you’re doing, but I really needed it for soccer practice. Sorry if I disturbed you or anything? You look a little...” He waggles his hand in place, hoping that was enough to convey whatever he'd meant.

“No, it’s- It’s alright.” Koushiro tucks his hair behind his ear self-consciously. “I’d just been talking to some online acquaintances. You left this where?” 

“Your room. Can I?”

Koushiro thinks about his laptop right on the study table facing the door, and thinks about the incriminating conversation he’d been having in full view on the display screen. “I'll get it for you. Where did you say it was?”

“I left it at the foot of your bed, I think?"

With a nod, Koushiro strides back into his room to locate the sports bag, glad to have a moment to regain his bearings. 

“Take all the time you need!” Taichi calls out after him.

Following Taichi's advice Koushiro locates his bag quickly enough, a faded stripey grey and orange thing that just oozes sweaty grime, and he grimaces slightly at it. Taichi was lucky that he and Hikari had separate bedroom spaces now, or it might've mysteriously disappeared a long time ago. 

He gingerly picks the bag up by the strap, just in time for Taichi to peek his head in.

"Hey," He greets Koushiro with a smile and a wave, "I know you told me to wait and all, but I was just wondering what you'd been up to before I came over. Computer stuff, right?”

Taichi's considerably lengthy legs are already in the room and towards Koushiro's desk table before he can reply, and it shamefully takes him a second longer than necessary to remember why letting Taichi into his room was a bad idea.

He _yelps_ , bounding frantically across the room, cramming himself in between his best friend and his desk as he unthinkingly grabs the top of his poor, poor laptop and _slams_ the display down.

The silence between them lingers. When Koushiro looks up, Taichi is staring blankly at him, the stretch of his hand towards the table stopped midway.

"Ah." Taichi says intelligently, a clear sign that he has absolutely no idea what just happened. Koushiro absolutely panics, flailing as he goes.

" _I-I'm so sorry!_ It's just that I was having a... confidential, conversation! _Right!_ A-and I do respect you, Taichi-san, You're one of the people I trust most in this life, but there- there might be s _ome aspects of this specific conversation that I really shouldn't-_ "

“Hey hey hey," Taichi raises his hands as if to placate his friend's rambling, "If it's a private thing between you guys, it's fine! I don't have to know everything you talk about. In fact, I think the point is that a lot of the time I _don't_ know what you're talking about." He looks sheepish as he says this, "Whatever you're doing with the other kid geniuses out there..."

" _No!_ It's nothing like that in this case. We were just discussing..." Koushiro blushes and stares at the floor, deciding that some truth would be sufficient in clarifying things, "...more personal affairs. And I'm just not- I've never been very good at all that. I'd rather you not see how I handle my shortcomings. I-"

He's cut short by a hand, his squeak of surprise muffled by its clasp over his mouth. Koushiro's interrupted stream of thought is puzzled for a moment before the body heat registers and Koushiro thinks- _oh, it's Taichi-san's palm-_

It's not a particularly firm grasp or anything, but he can feel the warmth emanating from his palm over his lips, see Taichi leaning closer in his periphery vision, and...

Resisting with all his might the bouts of embarrassed hot air threatening to blow out of his ears, Koushiro dares himself to meet his friend's eyes.

He's surprised by the transparent sincerity he's greeted with, the lines around Taichi's eyes and mouth soft as they come into focus, aligning his face with Koushiro's own.

"Hey, c'mon," Taichi says gently, slowly releasing his hold on Koushiro's mouth. "Whatever it is, I bet you’re doing great. I know you don’t think that you’re good with people, but I'm sure they at least look up to you a lot. You're smart with information and programs and all, but you are actually capable outside of just that too, you know?" 

Praise is nothing Koushiro hasn't heard before. He is objectively exceptional for his age in certain fields, authority figures and certain close friends take pride in letting him know that. Personal relationships are something he has genuinely struggled with, however, and it's rare that Koushiro does anything remarkably constructive as a proper friend, someone successfully in tune with another's emotional wavelength. So, of course- _of course_ Taichi would consider him capable of such a thing, the same way he seemed to deem him capable of being decent at soccer or trustworthy enough to make a decision with everyone's lives in his hands, with things _no one else knew about him-_

He watches entranced as the corners of Taichi's mouth tug up into a faint smile, the moment precious and ethereal in its emotional and literal intimacy, and keeps watching as Taichi's hand settles on his shoulder, his smiling lips parting as he continues to speak.

"And if nothing else, I couldn't ask for a better friend than you. Don't forget that."

Koushiro can’t tell if it’s the physical contact, or the words, or both of them in conjunction, but they leave his brain feeling a vast bottomless blank, incapable of doing anything but processing the warmth of Taichi's palm through his shirt. He stares into endlessly warm brown eyes, fruitlessly picking at the words floating hazily around in his brain.

“I-”

A soft jingle sets off, and Taichi glances down at his phone and makes a face. “Whoops, I gotta go. Sorry Koushiro, you can tell me how it goes another time!” An apologetic pat and some briefly dizzying maneuvers later and he’s halfway out the door, his sports bag bounding off his back with how quickly he’s moving. “Later!”

The notable slam of the front door being shut marks his exit as soon as he came.

"Koushiro! Was that Taichi-kun?" His mother's voice dimly registers from the living room, faraway and distant to Koushiro's ears. "That boy, always in a rush. Tell him to stay for some snacks next time, won't you?"

And Koushiro is left alone with the beginning of a bad, bad thought.

* * *

Regardless of what Michael had said, Koushiro isn’t doing this to have his feelings acknowledged. Despite his presumptuous fancy that this might be a welcome gesture and the ridiculous lengths he is going to see this through, Koushiro knows his place. What he is choosing to do right now is a simple act of catharsis, to empty out a bucket that was quickly overflowing.

In the end even though he’d been caught, he was glad for Tentomon’s company and assistance. Despite both of them joining his mother sometimes when she baked, he’d never really done much of it himself. Food-making was a practical skill, and all the research he did could only help inexperience so much. Tentomon was undoubtedly one of the least nosy of the Chosen’s digimon partners, and while Koushiro was grateful that his partner hadn’t pried, he had a small uncomfortable hunch that it was because he hadn’t needed to.

It is with his help that he stands in the school’s doorway entrance now, two whole hours before classes begin on a Monday morning, staring intently at a singular important metal locker amid a sea of identical looking ones. 

He’s fairly certain that he has the right one, despite the shoe lockers lacking visible designated owners. They’ve spent so many mornings right by this box, Taichi greeting Koushiro with a bright grin each morning as Koushiro stumbled through the school entrance in a sleep deprived daze, chatting him through the early morning motions before they separated into their classes and his brain would finally wake up in time for classes to actually begin.

His absence this morning, as is mostly everyone else’s, is the sole reason he can even consider going through all of this today.

Koushiro looks down at the little gift bag in his hands, a simple white box peeking up at him.

He'd agonized over the packaging, wondering whether to allow it a modicum of being discernible as a typical Valentine’s chocolate box simply to respect the notion of the gift, or to keep it completely devoid of any tell-tale characteristics to better preserve its anonymity. In the end he’d gone with the latter for his own sake, he couldn’t bear having his feelings spelled out so plainly by the packaging alone, even if the recipient would never know.

He gives himself a moment to take a breath. Steeling himself, he reaches for the locker handle-

_"Koushiro-kun!"_

-And then he doesn't, slapping his palm loudly into the metal.

The late chocolate hours meant that his cognitive processes were absolutely compromised this morning, which also meant that Koushiro recognized the cheerful greeting too late to pretend he hadn’t heard it. His fight-or-flight instincts failed entirely, and all he could do was struggle to maintain any sort of position that didn't look too incriminating regarding his motives as he turned around to face the judge-and-executioner casually jogging up to him right this second-

" _Sora-san..._ ah _... good morning_..."

Sure enough, his good friend Sora-who's also _Taichi's good friend Sora_ \- stands before him, her usual pleasant smile existing in stark contrast to the awaiting disaster of her sheer presence. "Good morning! You’re early today, did you sleep well for once?" 

“Sora-san, why are you here?” Koushiro asks, frazzled.

His friend blinks twice, slowly. “I have tennis practice? I do every Monday.”

She shrugs casually for good measure, pointing to her tennis racket. Koushiro can’t refute that, can’t do anything to prevent Sora from Not Being Here. The pressure valve of his heart is reaching maximum containment, and Koushiro knows innately that he could explode right where he stands.

Sora proceeds to keep talking, oblivious to Koushiro’s internal meltdown. "Well, either way, it's good to see you here! Saves me a little walking around." She reaches into a tote bag that Koushiro is just noticing she’s had with her the whole time and pulls out a modestly decorated box. "For you. It's friendship chocolate, of course, but you’re still very dear to me. A token of love, I guess!" She takes a good look at him as she hands him the box, grimacing slightly. “Might help after an obvious late night.”

Her obvious concern relaxes him a little, and Koushiro can’t help but smile at her. Sora really is one of his closest friends, and he’s still quietly surprised every year that she gives him anything. "Sorry, Sora-san. There was something important that had to be done. Thank you for the chocolate. I’m sure everyone, especially Yamato-san, will appreciate it."

There was a time in which Sora would have been flustered at the insinuation, back in middle school maybe, when their relationship was still new. Disappeared into her school uniform collar as she buried herself into a red-cheeked lump underneath her clothes. Today however, she simply give an affable grin. "He's so much better at this than I am! Even if I was the one who started making them first. I really wanted his help yesterday, but I guess since Mimi really wanted this to be a girl thing… It would've been nice if we could've had Yamato's chocolate balance out Mimi-chan's more experimental ones, you know?" She makes a show of huffing, her hand landing on his arm playfully.

Koushiro shifts his arm reflexively at the contact; the slight crinkling sound of the paper bag he’s holding drawing Sora’s attention as it swings from his forearm. 

" _Oh._ ” Her eyes widen in modest surprise. “Are you giving any chocolates today yourself, Koushiro-kun?"

Oh

oh

_No_.

"Ah- this is, _um._ " An uncaring god looks on as Izumi Koushiro tries not to lose his marbles on the spot. "No, I’m just _holding this for someone-_ a classmate _asked me_ to pass this to _someone in the same class_ and- _isthattheschoolbell? Yesitissorrysorasanihavetogo_ "

He doesn't give himself time to parse the puzzled look on Sora's face. He's said too much already. He bolts.

* * *

It was supposed to have been simple. Chocolates in a shoe locker was a classic according to Jou, who’d received his first chocolates from his first and current significant other in the same way. Taichi, as the captain of a moderately successful soccer team, was predictably moderately popular, so he would’ve gotten one or two of the usual in his locker each year. Koushiro’s simple, unremarkable box would’ve blended right in, allowing him the safety of expected anonymity that wouldn’t have been questioned. He would've gotten rid of the chocolates quick, he would've rested a little easier knowing that Taichi would know there was yet another that appreciated him for himself, and the gesture would've been a small balm over the rest of what he felt which _absolutely could not be acted upon under any circumstances._

With Sora having witnessed the premeditated attempt to such an obvious ploy, that was no longer an option.

He couldn’t just put the chocolate into the Yagami apartment mailbox, both too creepy as an anonymous gifter and too obvious as someone who was actually invited there on a regular basis. Sneaking into Taichi’s classes at break and placing it in his desk or his bag were also absolutely out of the question. It wasn’t just that it was risky, it was also that Koushiro was a _friend_. It didn’t feel right, using that position of trust to put something into his personal space in a public area when he wouldn’t be present. Especially if it might’ve caused him to be an object of spectacle if his class found out.

So that left Mimi’s party. 

Koushiro actually wants to physically burst into flames at the very idea: having to navigate the landmine that would be the watchful eyes of his fellow Chosen (especially among the younger ones, who would be ever so ready to slap on a motive at any unprecedented anomaly), the proverbial noose that was possibly having to explain away his actions should he be caught, not to mention the millions of questions the digimon themselves would ask should they even catch a whiff of any behavior worth questioning...

And if Taichi were to get involved…

But he’d at least be giving the chocolate to him in the most equal circumstances.

It was the right thing to do.

Koushiro’s head hits the desk in the middle of math class, the resignation to his fate successfully tuning out the concerned heads turning towards his direction.

* * *

It has been a solid half an hour after the school's final bell has gone off, and Koushiro is still clinging to the same pillar he's been stuck behind for the last 10 minutes.

He'd learned from his past mistakes, and had managed to stuff the little gift bag he'd brought the chocolate in into his schoolbag. That would mean little if Sora remembered to ask about it, judging his own incompetence at lying, but that wouldn't matter if she only got to ask _after_ he'd gotten rid of it. Planting the chocolate at Mimi's party was a solid next-best-plan, _the_ most solid one he has that doesn't consist of abandoning it entirely, but that would mean absolutely _nothing if_ he was caught by Sora again, and had to explain his motives. He knew Taichi would probably be heading to Hikari's school to pick her up, but he couldn't afford to run into him either. He had to head to the party alone. He had to make _absolutely sure_ , he didn't run into anyone he knew-

"Oh, Koushiro."

He whips his head around immediately, heart leaping out of his chest. " _Yamato-san!!_ " He screams.

"Whoah, yeah, me." the boy replies, brushing back his hair enviously smoothly for someone not expecting to be yelled at. "We're on our way to Mimi's party, right? You waiting for someone?"

_I'm actually avoiding your girlfriend because if she asks any further questions about what I was doing in front of Taichi-san's locker today I think I might actually have to flee the country_ , Koushiro doesn't say. "No... I was just...ah... checking inventory..."

"Oh!" An excited voice squeaks from below. "Does that mean Tentomon's around?"

Koushiro looks down to see a swaddled bundle of walking sweaters, bright, jeweled eyes peeking out from under the numerous hoods and scarves covering its head.

"Gabumon?"

Yamato chuckles as Gabumon gives a jovial wave, spry despite being stiffled by all the fabric. "It's like I'm walking Takeru to kindergarten again." He pats the top of Gabumon's poorly covered horn, Koushiro almost marveling at the fact that the scarves wrapped around it didn't actually look too incriminating. Being decently fashionable the way Yamato was must've helped. "Feels kind of nostalgic."

Koushiro spends a moment indulging in the visual sensation of once again seeing one of their child-sized partners walking about in the open with minimal suspicion in such a conspicuous manner before he remembers the reason he had been in hiding in the first place. 

“Pardon me. Is Sora-san not coming?”

The blonde smiles softly at the mention of his girlfriend. “Nah, she is. She just has to attend a little gathering for the sewing club first. She made chocolates for them, too. She'll catch up later when she's done.”

“Oh. Alright.” No need to explain why he was still holding onto the chocolate, then. Yamato was safe. He sighs in relief. “I-I suppose we should get going, then?”

“Isn’t Tentomon coming with you?”

Koushiro flushes a little, recalling what Tentomon had said this morning before he’d left the house.

“ _It’s alright, Koushiro-han._ ” He had said, when asked if Koushiro should come and pick him up after school for Mimi’s party. “ _It seems like I’m not such a fan of sweets. Besides, even if your mother didn’t ask, I’m sure she’d like some company while she thinks of something for your father today. I’ll keep her company while you pursue your interests._ ”

Pursue your interests. Koushiro unconsciously purses his lips. Did Tentomon have to put it that way? It was nothing to make a big deal out of. It’s not like Taichi would ever know. He was only trying to…

A shadow waves across his face. He blinks, and is greeted by both Yamato’s hand and his concern. “Hey. Koushiro?”

“Oh, s-sorry.” This whole situation was stressing him out. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would feel more himself again. “He wanted to help my mother with some things for tonight. I suppose he isn’t really keen on chocolates.”

“ _Ahhhh._ ” Yamato nods at this intently as he drawls in understanding, looking pointedly at his smaller companion. "Did you hear that, Gabumon? Chocolate. _Isn’t._ A universal novelty. Among digimon. Just admit that you’re just plain smitten with them already.”

" _Yamatooooo,_ " Gabumon whines from under his scarf, "It's not that at all, it's just that the ones you make are _soooo good..."_

That gets an easy rise out of Yamato as he stammers out a comment about how Gabumon just hasn't tasted enough regular manufactured chocolate, it's his dad's fault for _not being a sweets kinda guy_ and how _it can't be helped that there's none he'd buy for the house_ , and Koushiro can't help smiling at how embarrassingly affectionate these two specifically could be. Gabumon was always the best at bringing out Yamato's more mushy qualities.

“Well! Anyway,” Yamato's still visibly a little embarrassed, but he signals for Koushiro to get a move on. “Are we going?”

Koushiro takes a deep breath, gripping his schoolbag tight. “Yes. Let’s go.”

* * *

When they arrive, the gathering is already more or less in full swing.

Everyone's more or less found a place to comfortably lounge and chat, while their host practically floating on air by the way she flits from corner to corner, arranging frilly pink decorations and making conversation in one smooth motion.

" _Koushiro-kuuun! Yamato-san!!"_ She calls enthusiastically as she leaves trails of ribbons and fake flowers behind her. " _Welcome! Do help yourselves!_ "

Yamato raises a hand in greeting as Koushiro nods awkwardly, the girl already disappearing behind a curtain.

"Pretty extravagant for a small party, isn't it?"

Both Yamato and Koushiro turn to the person greeting them, drink and digimon companion tucked admirable between her arms. "Hikari-chan." Yamato smiles congenially at the younger Yagami, Koushiro following suit. "It's nice to see you. The others are here already?"

"We've been here a while." Hikari replies, swirling her juice around the way one might with a wine glass. "Pretty obvious, since Daisuke and Miyako-san have stopped pretending they're not going to disagree over every conversation they're having."

She gestures to her left at said two sprawled out on the couch, an admirably composed Ken between them as they aggressively wedge all their limbs into all of the leather's nooks and crannies between them.

“Shut up! This chocolate is great! Mimi-san has refined tastes, befitting of someone with an experienced palette! Experimentation leads to innovation!”

“Oh, _excuuuuuuuse me_ , Miss Refined And Innovative, I didn’t know the taste equivalent of an art installation in your mom's car was the height of culinary genius-"

Koushiro tunes them out immediately, turning his attention back to Hikari. "If you don't mind me asking, weren’t you going to come with Taichi-san?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound too transparent as he does. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

"Oh, him?" She looks thoughtful, fingers coming up to rest on her chin. “We were coming together, but he told me to go without him at the last minute. A classmate came up to him while we were leaving and then he said that something important came up and that he probably couldn’t make it. He didn't give much details.”

“That idiot,” Yamato sighs. “He was the one that was actually looking forward to this. Mimi is going to want twice the enthusiasm from us to make up for the fact he isn’t going to be here serenading her with compliments while she stuffs his face with free sweets.”

"I'm sure you could do a pretty good job in his place, Yamato-san, you've brought your guitar and everything-"

Yamato and Hikari continue talking, but Koushiro's only thinking about the fact that Taichi had chosen to stay back at school to talk privately to a classmate.

On Valentine's day.

A private conversation with a classmate... on Valentine's day. 

“…with the club, huh. Sounds like a pain. What do you think, Koushiro?”

“Huh?”

Yamato and Hikari are staring at him now, his schoolmate leaning in attentively. "You okay?"

“Oh… excuse me. I need the uhm, toilet.”

He swiftly moves past their questioning looks and heads into the empty kitchen, chocolates piled high on the kitchen counter. He sets down his bag on it, drums his fingers on the surface and takes a breath.

He hadn't even though about it until now, too caught up in his own conundrum, but Taichi had gotten some of these confessions over the years too. He had always been quick to turn down those he had no interest in (up to this point: all of them), but if he’d been asked again recently…and was even skipping Mimi’s party for it…

He suddenly felt very small. The chocolate he’d impulsively made was suddenly worth nothing, and was no longer welcome to its intended recipient. Despite the fact that he hadn’t intentions to confess in the first place, it now felt like an intrusion, an unwanted complication between two people whose relationship was just about to take off the ground. 

Taichi hadn’t said anything to Koushiro. He’d never even gotten an inkling that he might’ve been interested in someone else. Koushiro hadn't even been trusted to know that.

He looks around.

Everyone in the living room still seems fairly occupied in conversation, so he decides to take the opportunity while he still can. He takes the gift bag out as discreetly as he can manage, sliding it over towards the display of chocolates on the table. 

If it had nowhere to go, it might as well be of use somewhere else. 

With the deed done and a heavy heart, he heads back towards Yamato and Hikari.

“Yamato-san, I’m sorry. Could you tell Mimi-san I’m going to head home? I don’t feel well.”

“What? Oh.” Yamato looks over Koushiro, immediately radiating sympathy and concern. It’s strangely maternal, he thinks, as he allows Yamato to rest a hand on his forehead. “It doesn't seem to be a fever, but...do you want me to get Jou to take a look at you? Or ask anyone to take you home, at least? I bet Mimi is gonna be pretty disappointed that you’re not sticking around to be an extra guinea pig.”

Koushiro chuckles weakly. “It’s alright. I can at least make it home myself. The rest of you should enjoy yourselves. I’ll be fine.”

The look Yamato gives him is uncertain, but he’s never been one to cross boundaries when not needed. "Alright." He nods at him firmly. "Sleep well for once.”

He gives Yamato a perfunctory nod and heads out, ignoring the look he gets from Hikari as he does so.

If something irritates his eyes on the way back, he tries very hard not to wipe too hard at them, lest he leave too obvious traces that might have Tentomon or his mother concerned.

* * *

"Hey, where'd Koushiro-senpai go?"

"Oh. He left." Yamato stops in the middle of conversation with Miyako, remembering his concern over his younger schoolmate. He'd tried to call Sora earlier, remembering she'd seen him this morning, just to get an idea of what he'd been like earlier. He supposed if he hadn't asked for help he should be trusted to take care of himself, but... "He wasn't feeling well, so I guess it's just ten of us. Still plenty enough to finish your chocolates though, so don't worry about it."

" _Whaaaaat?!"_ Mimi exclaims loudly in the vicinity, dropping the decoration she'd been pinning to the wall in favor of flailing her hands. " _Koushiro-kun_ of all people would've _definitely benefit from all of this!_ I bet he has no taste for chocolate at all. When the day comes, he's gonna regret not having had any taste of culinary flair to impress anyone with!" 

Takeru laughs. "Koushiro-san? Make chocolates? _For_ _Valentine's Day?_ " 

Mimi pouts, put off by such an obvious dismissal. "You never know! He picks the weirdest times to get serious over things, after all!"

Everyone has a good laugh over the prospect, and the chocolate is brought together. The girls (and Iori) present their share, with Yamato and Daisuke adding theirs to the pile. Yamato at Sora's request, Daisuke at pure bullheadedness after learning that Iori was allowed to join the girls later and he wasn't.

"After we offered to help and got _rejected,_ Chibimon and I decided to make this together. On our own." He says pointedly, rubbing his nose proudly as he shares an accomplished look with his digimon partner. "It's our first time making it, but I bet it's still pretty good!"

Tragically, it wasn't.

* * *

It's two hours into the party that the dessert lethargy starts to really kick in. Mimi had been very enthusiastic and very, very intense, and that meant that no one could have more than a moment to themselves to enjoy a sweet before she was already insistently begging they try the next one. 

It's only after each of them have truly sampled at least one from each batch that Mimi finally lets up, and all of them take the opportunity to take their breath, collapsed onto various surfaces around the apartment living room.

"Oh!" Mimi, happily selectively oblivious at her guests' collective stupor, skitters around the kitchen table to be drawn to the untouched gift bag in the corner, sitting peacefully aside from the chaos of the ravaged chocolate buffet. "I didn't know Mama and Papa bought something for me for the party! They're so sweet!"

No one answers, and Mimi thinks it's only fair that she makes a formal invitation, in case they hadn't heard her the first time. "Hey, I think I have an extra box here! Would anyone else like to try just one more? Hmm~?"

She's greeted by an entirely unenthused chorus of moans, with the only one remotely willing, Agumon, being too full to voice his consent or even move towards her. 

Jou is the only one that bothers with an actual answer. "Ugh, I've had enough. Do the honors for us, Mimi-kun. Please."

Mimi shrugs, reaching in for a bite. Everyone else lies motionless where they've retired for the time being, waiting for her inevitable burst of delight at whatever niche richness the chocolate offered.

It doesn't come. Some of them look up.

Mimi's rolling the chocolate around in her mouth curiously, with the thoughtful grace of a camel chewing twigs.

"This isn’t from Mama and Papa."

Yamato barely manages to sit up from where he is on the floor, skeptical. "You guys have a lot of chocolate lying around. How do you know it’s not one of yours?"

"It’s...” _chew._ “Plain." _chew._

“Okay,” he rubs the back of his neck. Weird, but nothing easily explained away. He'd expected it anyway, faced with having to taste test Mimi's cooking for an entire evening. Someone was bound to snap. “Did anyone just buy anything from the store? Needed to cleanse your palate a little?”

_“This is not store-bought chocolate.”_

It is a statement made with such an unfounded confidence that everyone turns to Mimi to explain. Quiet settles in across the children as they register the almost grim look on her face, a dark cloud setting in across her features as she stares at the half-eaten chocolate piece in her hands. 

“This Tachikawa family loves chocolate. Loves cooking with chocolate. I’ve sampled chocolate with most meals imaginable, stand alone or not. I know the chocolatiers in Odaiba. I've seen the outcome of every single one of their factory pressed molds. I know the tastes of every iteration, every brand available in the entirety of the country itself."

Her audience nods decisively, hooked on every word.

"This," she punctuates for emphasis, pointing accusingly at the newfound outlier among the established treats, "is _not store-bought chocolate_.”

The group turn to stare at each other. And then, collectively, to the packaging of the box itself.

Modest home-made chocolate. In a modest un-franchised box. At a decidedly modest gathering displaying some of the most immodest chocolates ever crafted by human hands. At a time in which every other scrap of chocolate had been given and accounted for.

A light bulb goes off. Everyone comprehends, but Miyako reacts first.

"Could this be, _h-honmei chocolate?!_ ” Her teeth chatter so hard around every syllable of the words like they'd fall off at their complete enunciation, “Maybe someone here made this with- intentions-”

“Someone here like, _likes_ someone here?!?” Daisuke yells, all Miyako’s attempts at delicacy out the window.

Entirely on cue, Takeru locks eyes with Hikari in an impressive display of doe-eyed teary-ness, hands clenching the front of his shirt dramatically. "Hikari-chan, is this for me? I've only been waiting ever since the day I met you, after that fateful confrontation with Vamdemon, all those years ago..."

"The only extra chocolate I made was for Tailmon." Hikari replies curtly, patting said unimpressed mon on the head. "Sorry, Takeru-kun, you already ate your fill. Don’t be so greedy."

Takeru drops the act immediately, sticking his tongue out at her. “ _Boooo._ Stingy.”

Jou frowns, sending Yamato a skeptical look.

"Yamato, is this yours? Maybe one of your admirers broke into Mimi-kun’s house and put it here-"

“ _No way!_ ” Yamato snaps, not a stranger to the insinuation that his unprecedented stardom, once again, has inconvenienced the daily lives of everyone around him. "No one knew I was coming here today! Not even the band! _Especially today!_ "

Hikari bites her lip. "Well, I don't think any of us sensed any breaking and entering while preparing..." She turns to the digimon in confirmation, the girls’ digimon shaking their heads at her like a line of bobblehead dolls in response.

Yamato lets out an offended huff, point clearly made. No one chooses to fight with him over the issue, themselves wanting to pursue different avenues of thought that don’t relate to scary people breaking into private property.

“So, this really belongs to one of us? Is intended for one of us?”

“ _Takeru-kuuun_ ," Miyako wails, "Don’t say that! Think of what that implies! What romantic tension that’s been wriggling around the air that we breathe that we’ve been missing the whole time!”

The children go quiet at this, murmuring conspiratorially with each other. The digimon, having chosen to keep silent as the situation had unfolded before them up to this point, watch them do so in fascinated awe, curiosity blooming further and further.

It's Minomon that makes the first move for all of them, restless with the tense energy in the room as he wiggles around in Ken’s arms. “Hey, Ken-chan, this seems really important? Is it important?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Piyomon chirps in similar wonder, ecstatic to have an opening to join the conversation as she flaps her wings excitedly. “Is this a love story? Are we having a love story right now?”

"It really... doesn’t have to be," Ken tries, addressing Minomon as well as the others, "We're all in various stages of adolescence, we've been through a lot together. It's only natural that someone might, uhm, start feeling romantic inclinations, especially in this particular stage. I think we should respect their right to keep their feelings priva-"

"What? Boring!" Gomamon interjects. "Let's open it!"

“I wanna see, I wanna see!”

“I must admit, I am _very curious_ about what this means-“

The digimon chatter excitedly among themselves at this new development, clearly eager at the prospect of experiencing romance as a spectacle first-hand the way humans do in their day-to-day media. Even Tailmon seems interested, failing to keep their usual aloofness as well as they’d like. Not one human present at this party is capable of not indulging in the wants of their digital partners after a certain threshold of pleading. Yamato is at a loss. 

Before Yamato is allowed to think for too long, the host of the party clears her throat, addressing everyone in the room. All eyes are drawn to her, the regal way her stride towards the makeshift center her guests have created not unlike one's awe at watching a magnificent flower blooming within a vast, unforgiving desert.

"Well, I think it's an honor that whoever it is obviously picked my party as the backdrop to such a bold confession despite their shyness,” Her eyes shine with the gleam of someone deeply touched, “Whether meant for me or someone else- thank you for adding to the festivities! As your host, I, Mimi Tachikawa,” she pauses dramatically, gesturing magnanimously to her guests, “promise to turn you down gently and get you back on your dating feet as soon as possible, or! Absolutely _guarantee_ that your chocolate reaches the one your heart desires!"

A small chorus of whoops and cheers go off at Mimi's generous declaration. Miyako and Palmon are practically in tears, and Yamato can already sense the last vestiges of desired normality crumbling into thin air. This was especially disappointing since he was specifically hoping that Valentine's day would _not be at all exciting, dammit. Things never escalated like this until Daisuke and the others became a regular thing!_

He turns to Jou desperately, hoping for some support from his fellow senior Chosen in tying down the growing madness. Mimi is an obvious lost cause at this point, joyously welcoming the enthusiastic morale from her rousing speech and already in the midst of joining the conspiratorial huddle of digimon and middle schoolers. Jou looks about as lost as he himself feels.

"Miyako, do you have a thing for Ken again? Because if that's what this is-"

"What! I do not have a thing for Ken!! If anyone's giving any chocolate to Ken it's _you_ , you _disgustingly joined-at-the-hip-always-breathing-in-each-other's-personal-space-stupid-special-friendship-exclusionist-club-_ “

“I'm sorry, Miyako-san. Did you want to be included when we're together? If we've been insensitive towards your feelings-”

"That's not the point!"

“There’s a note in here, _dagya_!”

Everyone turns to Upamon and finds Iori with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, the contents of the white chocolate box unpacked across the table. Jou makes an undignified chicken-like squawk.

"Iori-kun! But- what- why-"

"The sooner we satisfy our curiosity; the sooner we'll be more comfortable getting back to the festivities." The youngest speaks with a detached impartiality, but there's a hawkish look in his eyes that Yamato doubts very much has anything to do with simply wanting this sideshow over with. "Would anyone else like to take a look?"

The group's already halfway there, too fast for Yamato to make any kind of effective protest. 

"So much for being able to count on Iori-kun for crowd control," Jou whisper-groans, resigned in watching Gomamon flop excitedly towards the gathering crowd.

_When you grow up with Inoues_ , Yamato thinks despairingly. He misses the younger baby-faced, inflexible Iori right this very instant. He herds Jou and himself alongside the others as Iori smooths out the discovered note with a prim neatness, hoping that keeping up with them will make a difference.

"What." Daisuke says, making a face as he peers over Iori's shoulder. "It's typed."

A gasp. "Who doesn't hand-write a _love letter??_ "

"Someone who doesn't want to be caught, Miyako-san." Iori states, blunt as ever. "Anyway, it’s not much of a love letter to begin with. Here it is."

He displays the note for everyone to see. A white, unremarkable sheet of paper containing three sentences in neat, black print: 

_‘Words can't describe how much you mean to me, I will always be grateful. Thank you._

_-an admirer'_

The group reads the note, comprehends it, goes over it once, and twice again. Comprehends it a second time, then looks back at Iori.

"That's it?"

Iori shrugs.

"That's it."

"That's _barely anything at all!_ " Miyako whines.

"How are we supposed to find out who the chocolate belongs to now?!" Piyomon wails around Hikari's knees, and a mass of equally distressed voices display their discontent.

"Well," Jou starts nervously, shuffling back and forth amidst the dissenting group as his clasps his hands together, "its a shame we've reached the end of our reasoning, but maybe this way we could get back to just enjoying ourselves-"

"Oh!" Chibimon exclaims from where he's sitting next, eyes shining. " _Inspector Shonen_!"

Jou immediately clicks his mouth shut, already seeing the next 20 minutes playing out before his eyes.

"It's a mystery, isn't it!" The bouncing baby creature grins at his audience, esctatic. "An unexplained phenomenon! Everyone's bedazzled in shock! No clues pointing towards the culprit! Just like in _Inspector Shonen!_ Logic! Thinking! We can sus it out!"

"Aww, c'mon Chibimon, you've been reading my manga again...?"

"Logic, huh..." Ken interrupts, bringing a wave of eyes towards him as he slowly considers it, his hand to mouth gesture already bringing to mind the larger than life detectives of the silver screen. He breaks away from a befuddled Miyako and Daisuke, using the anticipation of the moment to pace himself as he scans the tense crowd. His posture shifts from his usual demure self to something much more calculating and shrewd, settling on staring straight at Yamato. "Alright. Sure. Let's try that."

He's already commanded the social authority of that position from everyone in this room from the captivated way they watch him slip into the role with conviction, and Yamato does not like it. 

"Yamato-san." Ken says, sharply, regarding him ominously. "Where were you yesterday?"

"What _-_ me? I was cooking at home." He frowns, unease building at his line of questioning.

"I remember being in the kitchen for a while, earlier today. I never saw the gift bag Tachikawa-san took the chocolate box from there." Ken describes, coolly, the certainty in his observation only bolstering the reactions of the peanut gallery. "You were the latest to arrive, and also were the closest to the kitchen the whole time."

"Excuse me?!" Yamato replies incredulously, especially when Hikari starts eyeing him suspiciously in response to Ken's reasoning. "We were _together, Hikari-chan!_ You came up to me the minute I came in! We were talking! I wasn't holding anything like that! There's absolutely no way-"

"-But then Koushiro-san left and you went into the kitchen right after," She points out, considering Ken's line of deduction. "I didn't go in with you, and you could've easily hidden the chocolate in your guitar case. If there was anytime you could've left the bag there, it was then."

" _I was calling Sora!_ She told me she'd seen him that morning, so I wanted to ask if he'd been feeling off earlier today as well!"

"Calling your girlfriend, hmm?" The young man accusing him notes softly, his quietly contentious demeanor making Yamato's hairs stand on end. "That seems rather convenient, with the conclusion I've come to."

Awed murmurs and whispers are thrown about at Ken's declaration, the room holding itself for his final line of attack. Ken brushes his bangs back confidently, raising his index finger staunchly in preparation.

Then, the dramatic point.

"You put the chocolate in there and called your girlfriend after because you wanted to be _sure_ that she would be here when you revealed the chocolate to her after everyone had already eaten the rest! _You wanted to derail Tachikawa-san's party with your grand gesture of romance!"_

The room immediately erupts into annoyed accusation.

"You'd hijack my party, Yamato-san?! _I can't believe you!_ "

"Yamato, I have to admit, that's a bit much, even for you."

" _Booo, stop showing off!_ "

Yamato can only sputter. He cannot believe this is happening. " _How does that make any sense!_ _Why would I even do all that?!"_

"It's the only thing that explains your disgruntlement thus far! You were embarrassed at being caught!"

" _Why_ would I give Sora chocolates in front of you guys! You guys always make fun of us! Also, there's no way my chocolate is just _plain! I practice!"_

"Oh, he _practices_." Miyako snorts with disdain.

" _Not for Sora!_ For **_Gabumon_** _!!_ "

Mimi swoons at the sight of Gabumon going pink. " _Aww!_ "

"The last people to arrive..."

Ken startles at being interrupted at the height of his reasoning while the room turns to Takeru, mulling over that newly considered piece of insight.

"Let's consider the chocolate again. The letter is printed, trying to avoid any personal flair that could come from being handwritten. The box says nothing regarding its intentions aside from what the chocolate contextually means. The chocolate itself is, according to Mimi-san, mediocre and lacks finesse and experience entirely. The only other possibility I can think of is Iori-kun, and I personally feel- no offense, Iori-kun- uncomfortable even considering the possibility that he brought it for any of us-" 

"I didn’t."

"-which is why I still feel comfortable pursuing this train of thought," Takeru takes a breath, staring right into Mimi's eyes. "Maybe it's Koushiro-san's?"

" _Koushiro-senpai?_ " Daisuke asks, unconvinced. "Who would he even be giving this to?"

Mimi and Takeru seem to communicate telepathically for a moment before Mimi breaks eye contact, almost in a trance. She turns to stare at the box, and then picks it up and hands it to Yamato.

"Huh?"

"I mean, he did have that whole thing for you for like a week in middle school?"

"He _what?!_ "

“What’s going on?!”

The group turns from their dumpster fire of half-baked conclusions to their latest arrival in the doorway, confused and unsettled.

"I thought you guys were supposed to be celebrating," Sora replies hesitantly, halfway through taking off a shoe as she surveys the blank looks in her direction. "What... what's happening?"

"Sora-san," Takeru's voice is firm and uncompromising, rooting her in place. "Do you know anything about this chocolate?"

Said chocolate is taken away from Yamato and presented to her immediately. Her eyes widen in recognition. Everyone notices, watching her closer in apprehension.

_"That looks..."_

The room holds its breath.

_"...Like mine!"_ Sora blurts, "Haha, I can't believe I left this here! I knew I was forgetting something yesterday, how clumsy of me….”

"Waitwaitwait." Miyako cuts in front to confront her, dubious. "Sora-san? This is yours?"

" _Yeahsureis!_ " She smiles wide eyed, head bobbing up and down in confirmation. "I can't believe I made all of you worked up over something so silly, haha!"

Yamato looks a little concerned.

“But you usually hand-write to your dad...?”

“Oh. _That._ Well, this year I got so emotional writing it by hand, you know, and since my dad would be so glued to his computer anyway with all the research and such..." Her gesturing is non-committal, looping circles with her hands that go nowhere. “It just seemed easier to express myself by…tapping keys...” 

Mimi raises an eyebrow, face scrunching suspiciously. "But you didn't mention anything about this box yesterday..."

_"I hid it!”_ Sora exclaims, some wincing at the sudden pitch of her voice. “I hid it because I was embarrassed! Being a daddy's girl is a little embarrassing at this age, isn't it!"

To her absolutely unwelcome surprise, Mimi wilts considerably. “It’s embarrassing? Am I... _embarrassing_ , Sora-san?”

The exact pocket of eternity in which everyone notices Mimi's large doe eyes begin to glaze over with the shine of unshod tears is a watershed moment, and the conversation is derailed as everyone tries to soothe the unpleasant oddity that is an insecure Mimi.

The mystery chocolate is quickly forgotten.

* * *

Taichi Yagami opens the door to his home at 10 on a Monday night to find himself being greeted by one of his closest friends, looking the most displeased he's ever seen her.

"Sora!” He barks in surprise. “Whatcha doing here? Did you leave something with Hikari? How’d the party go?”

The girl doesn’t react or respond to his question. Slumping in tired resignation, she sighs towards the floor.

“Where were you even, today…” she grumbles under her breath.

He looks almost apologetic at that, but not enough.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry for not showing up. But well..." He strokes at his chin thoughtfully, frowning with his eyes closed. "Someone on the team had a _thing_. Like one of our regulars had a rivalry with one of the underclassmen over this girl that's been to our games lately, and they were going to literally have an actual competition about it and whatever, and the team manager got so afraid that she insisted that I be there to keep them in line and you know how she gets, so even though I kinda didn't want to I was _totally the only one who could make sure whatever happened didn't escalate into something that'd actually get them into trouble_ , y'know? And it sucks that I had to miss Mimi's party but it was absolutely the right call and it did turn into a total disaster and we had to do some _very creative improv to avoid the cops-_ "

Sora, having spent a good couple hours after Mimi’s party fighting a long internal battle with herself, aggressively silences him with a wave of her hand. "Nope. Can't be bothered right now. I’m just here to deliver something.” She pulls out a plain white box from the bag she's brought with her, almost thrusting it into Taichi's bewildered face. “For you." She sighs. "This is so awkward. I really shouldn’t. But unfortunately, I really do care about you two too much.”

“Care about too much?” The boy pointedly raises an eyebrow before making a show of daintily cupping his cheek with his mouth open, the very picture of the ingenuous maiden. “Awkward?" He leans forward with a stage whisper gesture and a scandalized look. "Oh my god, is this from _Yamato_ -” 

And that’s all the fake theatrics Sora can take before she's compelled to haul the chocolate box off the balcony and bring this terrible, egregiously misguided indirect courting to a swift end. Fighting her growing mortification because Taichi can't just _accept gifts like a normal person_ , she wrenches Taichi's arm from his side and places the box in his palm firmly in lieu of just shoving it at him.

It did deserve a little delicacy, despite all the trouble. It had come a long way.

“Shut up and just take the chocolate, Taichi. I’ve done what I’ve needed to, so I’m going home. Don’t be such a dummy, okay?”

She turns on her feet and starts to leave, her heavy, stomping footsteps down the hallway daring any further questions or comments regarding her visit.

Taichi however, having never ever been satisfied without having the last word at Sora's expense, takes up on the unspoken threat.

"If you promise to be nice to me, I think we can still share him, though?"

His reward is a weighty tote bag to the face.

* * *

Koushiro wakes up to soft light filtering in through his windows and the smell of cooked rice.

_Oh,_ he thinks, staring at the bright patches of sun splayed across his limbs in a daze. He'd really ended up sleeping away the night before. He must've been more tired than he thought he'd been. 

"Koushiro-han?"

Koushiro blearily turns to his doorway to find Tentomon peeking through.

It's then that he remembers, the distress he had put both Tentomon and his mother through the day before when he had come home with barely a word and shut himself up in his room. He hadn't locked the door, but he supposes his behaviour had been worrying enough for them not to have intruded for a while.

He would probably have to explain himself.

"Koushiro-han, are you okay?"

Tentomon's approaching the bed now as Koushiro contemplates how to handle the situation, gently resting his claws on the sheets. He closes his eyes.

He really is, all things considered. He had been a bit upset, but thinking it through a little more had also made him realise this was probably for the best. He'd been rash, anyway. He can only be thankful that he hadn't actually done anything that Taichi might've had to respond to, and that he'd been cut down relatively early.

"I'm okay, Tentomon. I just had my feelings hurt for a while."

Large green compound eyes take note of him, wings buzzing anxiously. "Koushiro-han..." Tentomon starts tentatively, "Your eyes..."

"Oh... they're a little puffy, aren't they?" He raises a hand to them gingerly, feeling the swell of skin around his eyes as he does, "It will probably stop looking so bad after a while. Lets go get breakfast, okay?"

He tries to smile, hoping to persuade him. Tentomon regards him for a little more before resting his claw onto his palm.

"Alright, Koushiro-han. Breakfast smells really nice this morning, doesn't it?"

It's much easier for Koushiro to smile sincerely at that, and they both walk hand in hand into the dining area together.

* * *

Koushiro's mother, upon seeing her son and his partner walk into her presence, instantly drops the rice bowl she's filling to pull him into a hug.

"Oh, Koushiro..." She says, arms warm and tight around his shoulders, "I was so worried. I don't know what happened yesterday, but you know you can talk to me, don't you?"

"I'm okay. Please don't worry."

She immediately pulls back, giving him the most disbelievingly concerned expression he's ever seen on her. He decides to change his statement.

"I'm sorry. That's not what I should've said. What I meant is, I..."

He really did wish he could just say what happened. He had no doubts that his mother would be a comforting ear. Tentomon would also be more than happy to uplift him, he knows that. He trusts them.

But it still hurts too much to talk about, after just a day.

"...I don't think I'm ready to. I hope that's okay."

The admission pulls its weight on him, and he hangs his head defeatedly. His mother keeps her silence a while, before he feels her squeeze his shoulder.

"Okay. I'll be here when you're ready to talk about it." She smiles reassuringly at him as he raises his head to meet her eyes again. "Would you like some breakfast?"

Koushiro gives a teary nod, and she gives his forehead a little kiss before returning to the kitchen.

* * *

Koushiro's genuinely starting to feel a little better by the time he's halfway done with his meal. His father had joined them shortly after, and after a lot of nervously concerned non-verbal communication between his parents and Tentomon, he'd settled into gently coaxing Koushiro into an invitation to taking a short family trip for the weekend, perhaps. It was all very obvious, everyone fussing over him and him eating enough a lot more than usual, but he supposes it's rather welcome, this pocket of warmth after such a hard emotional blow. His mother's cooking is always good, but he's never felt that more strongly than ever until now.

He feels a lot more himself by the time the doorbell rings, and it's the need to continue feeling this normalcy that he decides to take on the task.

"I'll get it," he tells his mother before she can start, heading for the door. He scurries over, opens it, and-

"Koushiro."

-He's greeted by the person he least wants to see right now.

"T-Taichi-san?!" He asks, backing away from the boy in front of him. "What are you-"

"Hey." There's a nervous energy around his friend, his heavy breaths erratic and restless even as he looms over Koushiro, staring at him unflinchingly. "Can I... can I walk with you to school today?"

* * *

The morning is a breezy one, wind and sunlight rippling across the Tokyo Bay. Koushiro sees it combing through Taichi's thick hair from where he's walking ahead of him, can even feel the way the wind brushes past himself. Little pricks of his own short strands of hair dance lightly across his nape as they walk together, just like Taichi had suggested when he'd basically barged in that morning.

Despite how especially awkward Koushiro feels after yesterday, he's more unnerved by how uncharacteristically _quiet_ Taichi's been the whole time. His unwavering silence weighs heavier on his mind the more they walk, and Koushiro is genuinely perturbed by how much he just doesn't understand it. He has half a mind to catch up to him and ask, perhaps, if something's on his mind-

-And then Koushiro remembers the events of yesterday, remembers what had been his...very indirect rejection. His jaw shuts immediately, slows his pace as he falls back in line behind him.

He's being ridiculous. Taichi couldn't have known his intentions. He hadn't even been able to give him the chocolate.

"Sorry I came to get you so early."

Koushiro barely hides his surprise in time at being addressed, hurriedly straightening his posture. It's the first thing Taichi's said since they've left his house.

He watches Taichi bring a hand to the back of his neck apprehensively, striking him again just how odd he's being, and it just makes him feel more insecure about the whole situation. "I know you usually just take the train, and I guess I should've just biked to your place and offered you a ride, but I just... I needed to think. And I wanted to talk. And it really couldn't wait."

Koushiro considers the implications of that sentence.

It couldn't wait?

He supposes... _oh_. 

Taking into account what he'd heard yesterday, and whatever that seems to have transpired since being urgent enough for Taichi to want to talk to him like this... it's really the only thing that makes sense.

...Whatever happens, he will be a good and supportive friend. He'd already resolved to put his feelings aside. 

Taichi deserved to be happy.

"Taichi-san," he prompts, softly. "What is it?"

The boy stiffens as he stops walking.

"Uh, well," he gestures vaguely, still not facing Koushiro. "I didn't attend Mimi's party yesterday, and I guess you did, because..."

He spends a moment like that, hunched over and uncertain before finally turning around to look at him, looking conflicted. It's endearing, the way Taichi always carefully decides the best way to say something when they're talking about more personal things, when it's just the two of them. Koushiro wants to smile despite the stirring in this gut, and he's about to encourage him to continue when Taichi reaches into his schoolbag and pulls _something_ out instead.

In his hands is a familiar white box, the slip of paper previously inside it held right on top, just under his thumb.

Koushiro pales.

"How... how did you-"

He shuts up far too late, only catching himself when Taichi reacts with surprise. 

He-

_He knows._

The thought rattles inside Koushiro's skull like a shaken ball in a puzzle box, and it's only amplified further as he watches Taichi's face shift from quiet shock to realisation, and everything in him screams to turn tail and run.

Taichi lets the hand holding the chocolate box flop down to his side, his face unreadable.

He didn't want to put himself on the spot like this. Didn't want to put Taichi on the spot about their friendship like this.

"It really was you."

Koushiro's too afraid to run in the end, with Taichi's eyes on him like this, so he averts his own and stays quiet.

"Is this really meant for me?"

It must really seem that unbelievable that the possibility even exists, for _Koushiro_ to feel that way about him, he thinks with some amount of heartbreak and dismay, despite Koushiro's reaction already being answer enough. Being found out is humiliating already, and even unintentionally, having his feelings thrown back in his face like this...

...It occurs to him to lie.

He could. He could pretend that it was an accident. He'd tried as much with Sora, and even if it was just a hollow deception, Taichi probably wouldn't push it. He'd probably choose to believe him, and things could go back to normal without acknowledging all this. The safety of their friendship was far, _far_ more important to him, and they really didn't need something like this complicating things. He could, but...

It would be dishonest. And it felt like spitting him in the face.

...And besides all that, Koushiro really...

Koushiro really, really did like him.

_He liked him so, so much._

He can't help the way his fingers tense into fists as he looks down, bracing himself for the shame. He nods.

He couldn't go back on it now.

Koushiro's gaze is firmly affixed onto the floor, terrified of what he might find if he looked up. He hears Taichi release a small breath, and his fear of what might come next only builds from there. 

"Koushiro... can I tell you something?"

He's too scared to react, and it keeps him frozen to his spot, even as Taichi starts to walk towards him.

"When I saw the box and the note," He says, inching closer, much to Koushiro's alarm, "The first thing I thought was that it had to be from you. You'd be so embarrassed if you had to use one of those frilly Valentine's boxes. And going through all the effort of printing out a love letter when you could've just written it, _heh..._ it just felt like the kind of thing you'd do."

Koushiro's still staring at the floor in front of him, watching as Taichi's feet stop right in the fringe of his vision.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it."

Koushiro blinks at that.

"It kept me thinking and thinking and I realised that... it wasn't really that I thought it was from you. I mean, I do think all those things were _definitely_ things you'd do, but more than anything, I just..."

Taichi's feet shuffle in place from that distance for a while, and Koushiro is just barely able to keep his composure as Taichi takes the final couple steps to meet him face-to-face.

"Koushiro," His voice is pleading, "Please look at me."

He sounds _upset_ , and hearing it squeezes compassion around Koushiro's heart like a vice. He doesn't want Taichi to sound like that, no-

He forgets himself, looking up. 

Taichi's eyes are shiny, hopeful.

"I wanted it to be from you." It's enunciated so clearly, the words moving in time with Taichi's mouth, dreamlike. "Koushiro, I like you.”

The admission cuts through the anxiety-induced fog clouding Koushiro's thoughts immediately. His brain snaps to attention, trying to comprehend what he's being told outright. 

He can hardly believe it. It doesn't sound real.

"...You...huh...?"

"I like you, Koushiro." his friend repeats, gently reaching for Koushiro's hand as he does. "I really do."

Koushiro's completely dumbfounded, trying to process the firm clasp of Taichi's hand around his own.

Taichi likes him.

The same way he likes Taichi.

Taichi _likes him._

The revelation hits him like a truck, leaving him so flustered he can only look away. "O-oh..."

The two of them say nothing for quite awhile, the power of their mutual affection being acknowledged leaving them speechless. Koushiro feels fingers twine between his, and his eyes snap down to realise that Taichi has interlaced their hands together.

“You don't have to decide on anything right away.”

"Right..."

"But when you do..."

Koushiro turns to him as he lingers on that last sentence, staring at him in wonder.

"Would you like to go out? With me?"

Taichi's eyes are bright as he asks, crinkling at the corners. Koushiro melts.

He curls his fingers into Taichi's, holding tight. Even in the cold breeze, his hand is warm. Koushiro relishes the feeling.

“I'd really like that, Taichi-san.” he says quietly, powerless to hold back the giddy smile in his voice. The boy holding onto him lets out a delighted breath.

* * *

It’s some time after the incident that Michael receives a thank you note in his inbox.

Years down the road Taichi and Koushiro will recount this event and while everyone else gets to put the pieces together, Takeru will down his entire glass of alcohol and crow for the rest of the night that he had been right the entire time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)


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